Bulletproof
by Corrupted Lament
Summary: As Freelancer collapses and the government draws near, the Director orders the extermination of all operatives. However, with the Chairman's sick fascination with Project Freelancer, this might become a problem for the Director and his experiments.
1. Prologue

Prologue

"_The world is very different now. For man holds in his mortal hands the power to abolish all forms of human poverty and all forms of human life." _John F. Kennedy

* * *

Silken threads of sanity dancing enticingly close, she reached out with frenzied fingers and blindly scrabbled at the gossamer cords that continue to elude her desperate grasp. Her hand closed tight around the fragile links to a possible salvation and she felt hope resurface in her. She unclenched her bloody fingers to look in relief at the silver lines. Crumbling in her palms, the delicate cobwebs she had so eagerly fought for just moments ago exploded into clouds of dust. For a single beat of her panicked heart, the silver plumes lingered in front of her disbelieving eyes before falling into the chaotic abyss that lay just underneath her.

The black void that reverberated with the anguished screams of the damned stretched on for all eternity and she could feel its maddening pull grip her. Her lips parted in a wordless, animalistic howl of a terror ingrained into the human psyche for countless generations as her broken body plummeted into the dark. The chaotic winds of oblivion slammed into her abused body and sent the scarlet spattered gray dressing gown that was knotted over her torn skin whipping out around her. Streaming out like a tarnished halo behind her, sweat matted hair enveloped the woman's senses in the thick, metallic stench of a river of blood that poured from her body.

As her eyes rotted in their sockets, she was able to catch a glimpse of a bloodthirsty, flesh starved army of flies descending through the red haze which slowly obscured her vision. They tore through the gauzy, gray shroud that covered the rotting skin of her torso and dug into the putrid flesh that drove their brains mad with blood lust. Agonized screams tore from her decomposing throat and momentarily drowned out the howls of the other damned souls as she lost herself in her own torture. The flies ignored her screeching and continued to rip her body apart in a desperate need to satisfy their gluttonous hunger.

This continued for what seemed like hours. And, despite the gray flesh curling off into the abyss or down the throats of the endless battalion of insects, the torment only increased with the passing seconds. When it felt like more of this unnatural Hell would drive her completely into the waiting arms of oblivion, the horde dropped dead and dropped away into the void. For a moment, her wails ceased and there was silence. Before she could utter a desperate plea to some higher power for salvation, the remains of her body suddenly ignited.

She was on fire; a guiding torch, a symbol of a traitorous hope to the tortured that there was light somewhere beyond their personal Hell. Her remains burning, blackening, crumbling around her, she was a being of pure fire. From a rotting corpse to a fiery angel fallen from aether, in one moment of excruciating agony she had become the golden spark that had unwillingly challenged Death. Blinded by suffering, she screamed one final time before she ceased to feel.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

"_A subject for a great poet would be God's boredom after the seventh day of creation._"-Friedrich Nietzsche

* * *

Droning lazily in the late spring heat, bees sluggishly floated on their way towards distant blooms. The distant sound of a brook chattering through the forest echoes in the muggy woods. High above, the leaves of the thick canopy rustled in a warm breeze and cast dappled shadows across the leaf strewn forest floor. Laying amidst the leaf litter, a woman stared up at the sunlight filtering through the interwoven branches with a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Her unhealthy looking skin stood out amongst the dark brown leaves that surrounded her; hours spent in armor leaving her flesh pale and robbed of the warm light of the sun.

"_Agent New Jersey," a_ smooth, melodious voice interrupts the muted noises of the forest. The woman, New Jersey, lazily opens one brown eye and a frown spreads across her face.

"Go away," she muttered, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. "I don't care."

"_New Jersey, you must listen. We have a very important person here to_-"

"_Agent New Jersey_," a different voice cuts in, this one carrying a heavy British accent. "_You _will_ listen to me." _

"Make me," Agent New Jersey says.

"_Very well_." The sound of a button being pushed dimly registers in the back of the woman's mind. Her eyes flutter open and she screams as several thousand volts of electricity passes through her body. The forest blinks out of existence and a tinted glass wall swims into focus in front of her; bright lights reflecting harshly off the glass and forcing her to squint against the glare.

"Fucking fuck!" New Jersey ground out. Thrashing in the leather chair she's sitting in, she finds that her limbs have been bound to the metal armrests and legs. Spitting more profanities at the people silhouetted in the wall, New Jersey struggles to fight the panic rising in her chest. Growing desperate now as the mounting terror forces her to hyperventilate; her profanities and escape attempts increasing as a red haze descends over her vision.

"Inject her," the cold British man says. Something is pressed into the skin of her left arm and her panic ebbs away. Left feeling empty and hollow inside, New Jersey starts to shake as the drug takes effect. "Now, New Jersey. You will answer our questions."

"I don't know _anything_! What more do you want?" she shouted back. "This has been going on for days; there's nothing left that I can tell you!"

"Where is she?" the British man says. "Tell us and you can go free."

"Who? This is the same question you've asked me since the beginning! Who is she? I don't fucking know!" Her quivering suddenly increases and her teeth start to rattle in her jaw. She can feel the drug starting to wear off; the days of constant use diluting the numbing effect that the injection caused.

"Agent Texas. She holds the key to this entire project. Where. Is. She?" The Englishman's starting to grow impatient; his cold tone colored with annoyance.

"Tex? I haven't seen her in days! You have to believe me!"

Another surge of electricity surges though New Jersey's abused body and she screams. "You're lying," the Englishman says.

"Agh! Fuck...You!" New Jersey howled. As she slipped into unconsciousness, she could dimly hear the two men talking.

"Increase the voltage. I have no use for her."

"Of course, Chairman," the soothing voice says.

"Good. Bring me another."

* * *

_It's not real._

_Hell opens in front of her. Beings bathed in blood and trailing darkness ascend from the abyss. Their red eyes glow with lust for the taste of her soul._

_It's not real._

_She screams as they descend. _

_It'snotrealit'snotrealit'snotreal._

_Their fangs rip her apart. Agony. She's breaking; her very essence is being torn in half. She screams again. Her name. "Alli-"_

"Agent New Mexico?" Her eyes snapped open. For several seconds after she had awoken, she could feel her heart beating frantically against her chest. Looking to her left, she could see seven armed guards holding loaded rifles pointed at her head. "We have no further use for you." The lead one announced, finger tensing around the trigger.

She screamed as a mass of bullets surged towards her.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"I want to seize fate by the throat." – Ludwig van Beethoven

* * *

His body ached.

He was running; legs moving on their own as bullets tore up the plastic grass behind him. Diving forward, his gloved fingers found the gun barrel of a Warthog and a laugh split from his throat. Hauling himself up, he kicked the gunner—a large man who froze at the sight of the armored behemoth who had appeared almost out of nowhere—off the turret before leaping into the empty passenger's seat. The driver screamed and swung the steering wheel wildly. The car spun and the driver clutched on for dear life as his unwelcome passenger lounged back and waved. Pulling a handgun from the dashboard, the driver was momentarily silenced when the massive man next to him ripped the driver's arm off and threw it, handgun and all, out the back of the jeep.

The driver erupted into pained howling as blood splattered the armored beast. Laughing, the soldier picked up the driver by his remaining arm and threw him, still screaming, out of the heavily armored jeep. Before the sickening crunch of the man's body connecting with the rough road could reach his helmet, he had already taken control of the Warthog and was driving north. In the distance, the armored soldier could see a large knot of enemy soldiers clustered around a small building.

Grinning behind his visor, he gunned the engine and sped forward with a half-crazed laugh.

* * *

Rolling to her right as the guards opened fire, New Mexico slid off her bed and rolled into the dresser. Ignoring the pain that lanced through her leg when it connected with the piece of furniture, New Mexico hurriedly pulled open the bottom drawer and removed a pistol. Lying down and rolling under the bed as more machine gun fire blew the dresser into matchsticks, New Mexico sprung up and knocked the bed into the soldiers. Two of them flew backwards as the bed connected with their chests_; _New Mexico came up firing on the five confused guards who were still staring blankly at the bed. Four of the five fell down when rounds broke their knees, New Mexico kicked the fourth guard in the groin and took his gun as he dropped down with a squeal. Dusting herself off, New Mexico pulled the trigger of the stolen gun and watched her attackers erupt into a red spray.

Pushing open the door cautiously, she could see other guards patrolling the corridor. Cursing, she eased the door shut before locking it. Sliding down the door, she cradled her head in her hands. Her armor, gun, and AI were at the end of that hallway.

She was screwed.

New Mexico heard screams and the sound of gunshots from behind the door. Yanking open the door and waving her gun, she paused before she pulled the trigger. At the end of the hall, she saw a white armored Freelancer spattered with blood and happily humming as he sat in a Warthog parked in the remains of what had been the armory. "Maine?" she called, lowering her gun and taking a hesitant step forward.

Maine revved the engine and flashed Mexi a thumbs up. "Are we gonna stand around talking or are we going to do something? Now, shut up woman and get on my Warthog."

Mexi rolled her eyes. "I'm not riding your Warthog," she muttered, "Never again." Letting the stolen gun drop to the floor, she walked over to the ruined armory and begun to dig through the rubble. In the mess, she saw that most of the equipment had already been taken and only hers and another Freelancer's armor remained. Pulling the black body suit from underneath a chunk of masonry, she peeled off her bloody dressing gown and dusted off the bodysuit before wriggling into it. After several minutes of struggling into her armor, Mexi finally clipped on the last piece before sliding on her helmet and picking up her rifle.

For several seconds, there was a low hum before a gray armored hologram materialized over her green helmet. "Agent New Mexico," the AI mumbled. "Hi."

"Digamma."

"New Mexico."

Mexi picked her way across the rubble and over to the Warthog and climbed onto the turret mounted on the back of the jeep. "Gun it, Maine."

* * *

Skipping across the battlefield, Alabama whistled cheerfully as he brought up a pistol and ended the life of an approaching soldier. Dropping the now empty gun, he pulled his rifle off his back and fired in a wide arc. Ducking low, he rolled forward as a hail of bullets tore up the ground where he had once been standing.

Coming back up in a low crouch, he fired off a few quick shots before turning and running in the opposite direction. In the distance, he could see a jeep speeding across the rough terrain. "San!" Alabama shouted as bullets sent dirt flying behind him. "Patch me into their communications!" Over Alabama's tan armored head, a light blue hologram burst into existence and scratched its head.

"…What?"

"Put me through to their communications!" Alabama shouted, pointing at the Warthog in the distance. San flashed white for a second before shaking his head.

"Sorry, 'Bama. I can't get through. Their AI won't let me establish a link."

"Dammit!" Alabama shouted. Raising his rifle, he fired off three shots at the Warthog. The bullets missed and Alabama cursed. "San," he said. "How many are there?"

"Thirty-one." A sticky grenade landed in front of Alabama and the Freelancer jumped over it. Safely landing on the other side of it, the grenade exploded behind him and lifted Alabama off his feet and deposited him in a heap in the dirt. Dazed, Alabama rose to his feet and unsteadily turned to face the oncoming horde of soldiers. The lead soldier grinned and pointed a pistol at Alabama.

"Hey, guys," Alabama began. "Do you think we can talk this out?"

"No."

"Please?" Alabama pleaded.

"No talking! Only death."

"Dammit."

* * *

Crouched behind a chipped boulder, a green armored soldier cursed his luck as a hail of bullets further chipped his hiding place. Above his shoulder, a red hologram flickered into existence and crossed its armored arms. "Agent Nevada," the apparition began, deeper pitched voice laced with disapproval. "You seem to be stuck. Must I run the battle tutorial program again?" The armored soldier shuddered and shook his head.

"No, Beta. That paperclip wouldn't leave me alone for months." Picking up his rifle, Nevada checked the magazine before he leaped to his feet and ran across the battle field. Firing his rifle randomly at surprised enemy soldiers, Nevada dived and rolled into cover behind another large boulder. Crouching as the groans of dead and dying enemies were replaced by the shouts of angry soldiers echoed over to his new position of cover, Nevada once again cursed his luck.

"And so it begins again," Beta grumbled as enemy bullets pinged off the new boulder.

"Fuck you. I like boulders."


End file.
